“Boring. Another day of babysitting my CEO. You?”
“Work was fine.” Eitan smiles. “But the big news is that I did the shop for the bach weekend. Loaded up on snacks and liquor.”
“Oh, yeah.” The actual wedding had been taking up so much of my time, I almost forgot there’s an entire weekend camping trip in two weeks. Three days in the woods. I can picture Eitan, surrounded by pine, with sunlight dappling his cheeks. Leaning in, and?—
Whoa, there.Play it cool.I take a sharp inhale to collect myself and my x-rated thoughts. “It’s crazy that she booked it for Yom Kippur, right?”
Eitan rolls his eyes. “Don’t get me started. I’ll be shocked if she actually finishes the conversion process before the wedding.”
I suck on my bottom lip, avoiding his gaze.
“Ruby?” Eitan stops walking. “What is it?”
“The good news is that she graduated!” I say, false cheer dripping off my words. Eitan stares me down, knowing there’s more to the story. “She finished everything online, and just needed to attendoneShabbat service in person.”
Eitan groans. “Tell me you didn’t?”
“All I had to do was sign her name in and say theShehecheyanu. It wasn’t a big deal,” I assure him.
“Unbelievable,” Eitan hisses. “Why do you let her treat you this way?”
I let go of his arm. I’m used to getting pity from the world. I don’t want it from him. “I know what I’m doing.”
Eitan looks at me, his gaze heavy. I can read his face like a book.What could possibly make this worth it?he asks with his eyes. Easy for him to say, Mr. Travels Anywhere He Wants, Asks Out Anyone He Pleases. Some of us don’t have quite as much going for us. Some of us are barely scraping by.
I begin walking again, even though I have no idea where we’re going. “She’s just busy right now. Once the book tour is done, she will do everything herself,” I say firmly, willing this truth into existence.
“Book tour for the world’s shittiest book of poetry.” Eitan catches up with me.
“There’s some…gems in there,” I say. “She has some moments of brilliance.”
“And now she’s having you convert to Judaism on her behalf.”
“I’m already Jewish,” I say flatly.
We stop at a red light on Halsted, and I look around, counting Sentinels jerseys. There must be a hockey game today.
Eitan takes my hand and interlocks it again inside the crook of his arm. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Tonight should be wedding-free.” I nod in agreement.
Armitage is as sunny and bourgeoisie as ever. The street is lined with high-end boutiques, all spilling perfume-scented air onto the sidewalk. We pass a small shop with a few formal dresses in the window. There’s a dress on a mannequin that’s got a plunging cowl neck, thin spaghetti straps, and a long swath of rose-patterned fabric stretching to the floor. Its texture is satiny, shining faintly in the daylight. I stand just so, admiring its outline on my reflection.
It’s a dress I would have bought in a heartbeat, when I had the cleavage to pull it off and a full head of long hair.
“You should try it on,” Eitan says, looking between me and the dress.
I shake my head. “Dresses like that require big boobs. It would fall right off me.”
“I disagree. But it’s all the same, because we’re already late.” His eyebrows raise playfully. It’s a wash of relief to put the tenseness of the wedding conversation behind us.
“What are we late for?”
Eitan walks a bit quicker, ferrying me along with him. “Have you ever been to an AYA event?”
“AYA?”
“Adolescents and Young Adults. Young people who have cancer.”
“No, I didn’t know that existed.”
